


First Kiss(es)

by EsculentEvil



Series: EsculentEvil's BatJokes Shots [16]
Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Budding Love, First Kiss, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-08
Updated: 2018-12-08
Packaged: 2019-09-13 23:47:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16902075
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EsculentEvil/pseuds/EsculentEvil
Summary: Basically myBatJokes Head canon (5)just... detailed and actually set in some kinda timeline. Most likely, this is the Original Golden Age Joker (Lead) and his Batman or the Joker fromDeath of the Family(Lament) and his Batman.Originally posted to my Tumblr @esculentevil on April 25th 2018, the 78th anniversary of Joker's debut inBatman #1.





	First Kiss(es)

It’s been two days since [Joker reminded him of their 78th anniversary](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16901916).

Considering that he did it when they only had two days left to wait...

That makes it April 25th, Wednesday, of 2018.

And Batman is kissing the Joker.

* * *

This isn’t how he intended to start his day—at least not before yesterday.

He had intended to leave the madman alone—to just... let him do what he wanted as long as it wasn’t too destructive. And this would have worked, too, because Joker only seemed interested in being at Batman’s side that midnight: he had seemed perfectly content to just gallivant gaily with his dark knight, twirling and tittering with glee in the moonlight.

It had caused Batman to honestly believe he could get away with just letting his truest enemy tail him all night.

He was so wrong.

* * *

It was actually rather entertaining.

Joker had always been a slippery catch: hard to keep up with and hard to keep down; between the false arms and occasional banana peel, Batman had always been annoyed by his craftiness—but he’d also always been thrilled by it. The satisfaction he got from slapping those special cuffs onto ~~his~~ the clown always made every other rogue’s arrest pale in comparison (not that he’d ever say that).

But running **with**  Joker was something else, entirely.

There were no peels, no false limbs, no... slipperiness. There was just a constant lunatic reaching out to him, a permanent yellowed grin shinning up at him, a strange warmth pervading all of him, a completeness that surprised him.

He was happy.

Racing across the rooftops of the city he loves with the maniac that killed one of his sons... Batman was happy: watching Joker flail and flaunt himself with fervor in the waxing gibbous’ light; listening to the loon’s laughter as it lilted loudly ~~and lovingly~~ into his cowl-covered ears and across the city they so cautiously shared; feeling the flirty criminal’s gloved hands as they flew fleetingly over his body...

He was happy.

Happy enough that he didn’t want it to end.

* * *

But it did end.

It didn’t have to, Bruce knows, but it ended.

It ended when Joker dared to touch him in a way he never had before.

It all ended when Joker grinned and swooped in and **kissed**  him.

* * *

At least, he’s pretty sure it was a kiss.

It was all tongue and teeth and giggles and growls and Joker staring at him with those startling green eyes—the color of acid and poison and life and rebirth.

It was passion and enthusiasm and saliva and motion and so outfield that Batman just reflexively punched the clown right off of him.

It was horrifying and perfect and he ran from it all.

* * *

Alfred had barely raised a brow when Bruce returned home.

He simply turned on the television to show Joker threatening hellfire for Batman.  


Joker’s ~~eyes were~~ red lipstick was smudged.

The same red as the smears on Bruce’s mouth.

* * *

“Would you care to explain what, exactly, you were thinking, Master Bruce?”  


Bruce bowed his head and refused to look the older man in the eyes. Running would probably have been the best answer but he wasn’t sure how to say that.  


Alfred just sighed, “Master Bruce... It’s alright: being in love is not a crime; allowing a mad man to destroy a city when all he wants is a kiss, however...”

Bruce’s entire face went red, “I-in love?!” His cry was defensive and frightened, accompanied by a furrowing brow and arguments building in his mind. Alfred’s calm face douses all of this, however, and leaves him fidgeting like a child, “... in... love?”

Alfred sighed again, a strange combination of tired and wary and amused and hopeful, “Yes, Master Bruce: in love. Did you not realize it while on your date?”

Bruce gaped. In that moment, his brain became a train wreck of him, Joker, and **date**. The word _kiss_  was probably in there somewhere, too—perhaps as the passengers that were then a raw and bloody and mangled mess.

“How was it?” Alfred finally asked after approaching his pseudo-son in silence.  


Bruce just shook inside his bat-suit. He wasn’t sure how to answer that—what even was _it_? The _date_ , itself, was fine: Bruce had enjoyed **that**  it—enjoyed the laughter and the lighting ~~and the love~~. But... the other it? “Was that even a kiss?”

“You tell me; although, the lipstick on both your faces seems to think it was.”  


A furious blush engulfed Bruce’s face, again, at those words. He shook his head—perhaps partly amused—before trying to answer the question. He couldn’t, however, as the activity he and the Joker had just shared seemed so unbelievably **different**  from any kiss he had before.

Feeling helpless, Bruce just confided: “It was all teeth and tongue.”

Alfred, to his credit, looked more surprised than disgusted (and isn’t that just perfect: not only can the Joker scare the sense out of Batman but he can shake Bruce Wayne and shock his perpetually unimpressed butler, too). After a quick moment, however, the elder nodded: “I suppose that makes sense.”

Bruce gives him a confused look, “Why?”

Alfred returns his confusion with affection, “He’s probably never kissed before.”

* * *

The explanation was so obvious Batman couldn’t believe he hadn’t thought of it.

As he scaled the side of his own alter ego’s building, he seriously considered rethinking his moniker of _world’s greatest detective_. The idea didn’t go much farther, however, as he reached the roof of Wayne Enterprises and the Joker.

The very scorned Joker.

Any blood that might have resulted from Batman’s fist-kiss had been wiped away during their intermission and, despite the fact that his eyes are still bloodshot, there were no tears on his face. His lipstick was still smudged (which, honestly, Batman isn’t sure why: their lips didn’t really touch) with no attempt to reapply it and his normally smiling expression was replaced with a hauntingly hurt scowl.

The detonator was the last thing to be seen.

“Back so soon, Ba _t_ man?” the Clown Prince of Crime hissed. “I thought you’d be longer. I mean, you ran so fast I thought you’d be halfway across the world by now!” He giggled at his own joke but the sound was hollow and hurt.  


Batman silently stalked forward.

Joker mockingly cooed, trying to get over his broken heart ~~because he spent years—fizzing **decades** —trying to get this man; and right when it seemed like it’s actually working—like it’s actually going to **happen** —the Bat RUNS AWAY?!~~, “Did tall, dark, and **swift** miss me?” His giggles were still dead.

Batman stopped in front of him and stayed there.

The Joker’s green eyes stared up at him in ~~hope~~ confusion. The hysterically hurt giggles died in his throat as a large, thick hand engulfed it. His tiny pupils blew open as the normally violent touch remained surprisingly gentle. ~~Hopeful~~ Hesitant lips twitched open, unsure if they should bare anything.

Soft.

It was so soft. Bruce was sure he was dreaming: to think a mad man whom threatens death and destruction as much as the Joker did would have lips as soft as this. Granted, there was something... off about them: ridges and divots and trenches that really shouldn’t have been there; but the skin was still soft, even if it wasn’t as smooth as he had thought, and Bruce adored them.

And then they were pulled from him.

The loose hold he had on Joker’s throat had been privy to the sharp inhales and instinctive swallows the clown had taken throughout the kiss. It was also allowed to feel the tenseness and trembling of the other man as he obviously struggled to understand and keep up with what was happening. The last thing it sensed, however, was the soft squeak that left Joker’s mouth as he pulled away.

Batman watched his enemy curiously.

The Joker’s eyes were wide, acid-orbs quivering in their sockets. His hands were trembling as they attempted to hide his assaulted mouth. His entire body was shaking as he stared right back at Batman. It was as though the Joker was terrified of the very thing he had been wanting for all these years.

And, as Batman strode forward again, he realized Joker probably was.

He remembered that as he reached for the other’s face, one hand moving to cup the other’s cheek as gently as possible while the other hand slowly freed the other’s mouth. Something in him melted as the villain’s face slowly became ruddy and those trembling hands took hold of his like a comfort-seeking vice. The red of the Joker’s lips was smeared now—not just smudged—and, without the waxy lipstick hiding them, Bruce could finally see what he had been feeling: deep, wince-worthy scars—probably born of a poor diet, dehydration, unhealthy living environments, and too much laughing/smiling after a dip in an acid vat.

He runs a thumb over the gaps, feeling each one, as Joker shivers and whimpers and looks like he’s about to cry.

And then Batman is kissing **his** Joker on April 25th, 2018; their anniversary.


End file.
